


A Decade

by nbarker1990



Category: The Voice (US) RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-11
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-10-17 14:33:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10595994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nbarker1990/pseuds/nbarker1990
Summary: Ten years goes by. Quickly.





	

**Year One [2010]**  
  
“Baby, you need to let Mommy sleep…” she says, trying to pry Kingston’s slim arms from around her neck. He’s been clingy and grumpy for the past few weeks now, and Gavin being away on tour hasn’t exactly been helping her growing sense of failure. She’d never claim to be the greatest parent in the world, but she showers her two little boys with all the love she has in her, and she’d hoped it would be enough.  
  
She’s praying this is an aberration, a minor blip.  
  
The next time she wakes up, King’s lying on her stomach, his fists tightly wound in her shirt. His eyelashes are so long and so beautiful that her fingers are itching to touch. He’s almost the mirror image of her husband, and it makes something tighten in her chest, seeing the man she loves reflected in the innocence of a child. Maybe it’s because she finds herself wanting to go back in time and somehow fix the younger him, try and change things so adult Gavin would be different.  
  
At this point, they both know his mistakes are no longer an exception, but the rule.

  
  
**Year Two [2011]**  
  
She’d always assumed depression would mean feeling sad all the time, but this past month has taught her how completely her definition needs to be revised. Depression is numbness.  
  
Tony’s still noodling on his bass, and for the first time in forever, she just wants him to shut the fuck up. The boys are still feeling creative, coming up with amazing riffs and beats and god, all she can think about is how UNinspired she is. The band is a democratic thing, all parts being equal, but they also know that this album is completely dependent on her being able to come up with the goods. And she’s not sure that she can.  
  
When her phone rings, she answers immediately, needing something, anything, to distract from the emptiness and guilt that feels like it’s drowning her.  
  
“I’ll be home as soon as I can,” she tells her husband, softening her voice because he sounds on edge and that’s never a good thing. “Promise.”  
  
It’s a lie.

  
  
**Year Three [2012]**  
  
He justifies it the way he always justifies it, tells her she’s looking for something that’s not there. Stop seeing the worst in me. Are you trying to upset me? And then, of course, she second-guesses things, finds herself deflecting and defending when she gets concerned phone calls asking about the photo that’s been splashed across the internet and all the tabloids.  
  
She forgives him.  
  
Again.  
  
She doesn’t sleep with him for a few weeks, curls up on her side and ignores his warm hands and sweet endearments. When she finally turns back to her husband, lets him fuck the worst of the doubts away, it’s not as satisfying as she needs it to be.  
  
But it’s enough.

  
  
**Year Four [2013]**  
  
“Sometimes it feels like I’m walking through this murky kind of cloud, y’know.” Jen’s been sitting on her bed for the past few hours, letting her talk and talk and talk, and if she could find some kind of feeling other than apathy, maybe she’d feel apologetic. As it is, she just keeps talking. “I always loved being pregnant and I still do. I mean, I’m so badly looking forward to having another baby, but…”  
  
“Something’s off.”  
  
“That obvious, huh?” Gwen says with a smile she knows is as brittle as the rest of her is feeling. Jen’s arms come around her, tight and hard, and it makes her heart crack a little, because she knows how much she’s been blessed with love, and yet the one person who SHOULD love her above all else? She’s not even sure if he’s happy that they’re growing their family again.  
  
“We’re here for you no matter what, you know that, right?”  
  
‘No matter what’ seems, lately, to be a bigger basket of possibilities than she’d ever thought it would.

  
  
**Year Five [2014]**  
  
There are always growing pains with any new project, she knows that, and so she’s been holding her breath, waiting expectedly for the other shoe to drop. Except it’s been a few days of filming now, and it hasn’t. It all feels GOOD.  
  
She hears Blake’s voice (so warm and drawl-y, she thinks to herself) before she sees him, and Gwen’s pretty sure he’s trying to avoid coming into the communal area while she’s feeding. Which is nonsense but also kind of sweet. “Ready to go in five?”  
  
“Unfortunately, I don’t get to make that call. All up to this little man’s appetite,” she responds with a laugh. “If you want a break from everything out there, you can come keep me company, y’know.”  
  
“Even though?”  
  
“Even though.” He sits beside her, close enough that she can almost feel his shoulder nudging hers, and it’s kind of weird, this almost stranger chatting to her about horses and deer and farm stuff while she’s feeding the baby. It’s nice, too.

  
  
**Year Six [2015]**  
  
It’s becoming almost normal, spending her days on the set and her nights in his bed. It’s probably the first week she’s actually been close to grateful for the 50/50 split she and Gavin have with the kids, just because she doesn’t know whether she and Blake would’ve had a chance to explore this relationship thing without her having that time.  
  
“Hey boys, mind going to bed early, so my friend can sneak in and make love to me all night? Just askin’.”  
  
Not going to work. This, however, she thinks, laying her head on her lover’s bare chest, listening to the inhale and exhale of his breath and the beat beat beat of his heart, IS working. Oddly enough. God knows she hasn’t got a clue whether this is even going to last beyond next week, but she’s freaking done with being careful and cautious. She needs to forget the sight of those damned nudes on the iPad, and she needs to obliterate the thought of Gavin from her head.  
  
“You gonna get some sleep?” His voice is husky and cracked with disuse, and she curls up closer to him, brushes a kiss against his jaw. “Mmm, how’d I get so lucky…” he murmurs, and she has no good response, because honestly, she’s too vulnerable right now to tell him that SHE feels like the lucky one.

  
  
**Year Seven [2016]**  
  
“King, you’ve got five minutes to get your butt out here!” Blake’s voice from outside her son’s door carries all the way to the kitchen, and she can’t help but smile to herself, listening to her boyfriend trying to cajole her oldest into rushing so they get to school on time. “I mean it!”  
  
Laughing, Gwen helps Zuma squeeze his lunchbox into his overflowing bag (she’ll have to ask him why he needs FIVE tennis balls later), keeping an eye on a still-sleepy Apollo, who seems to be chewing through his toast so slowly that it’ll be cold before he finishes.  
  
They’re out the door, her baby still eating, about ten minutes late, but frankly, she considers that a win these days. The car trip is par for the course – Blake drives, Kingston reads, Zuma talks, and Apollo whines for her iPhone – and she lets herself think about it all for a moment, how very routine this has become for them already. Two years ago, it was Gavin beside her, and now it’s Blake, but the feeling is so different, so much lighter.  
  
It’s all better.

  
  
**Year Eight [2017]**  
  
Her fiancé groans when Zuma shifts, his shoes hitting Blake’s knees when he bounces on the mattress. “Hey, bud, you know me and yer mom love having you in here with us, but you gotta watch where you put those feet of yours, okay.”  
  
A look of consternation passes across her son’s face, but fades just as quickly when Blake reaches over to tussle his hair. It’s one of the things she loves most about her man, she thinks, the way he’s so great at tempering discipline with affection. It’s not that Gavin isn’t, but it’s different for Blake, having stepped into their lives so much later with no real parenting experience. So, yeah, they’ve had a few blunders and missteps along the way, but these days…  
  
“And you, pretty girl, you need to stop thinking and give me a kiss.”  
  
She obliges, laughs when Zuma screws up his face before burying it in her pillow. “So, so, so gross.”  
  
Blake waggles his eyebrow at her, takes her hand in his and kisses the gorgeous diamond ring he’d given her a few weeks earlier. “I like gross.”

  
  
**Year Nine [2018]**  
  
The river is cold, but she dangles her bare feet in the fast-flowing water anyway. She’s pretty much seen (courtesy of three intrepid young explorers) every square inch of Blake’s ranch these past few years, but she doesn’t think she’ll ever be over the pure beauty of this spot, the peace and tranquillity and, yeah, the memories too.  
  
Apollo runs over, nimbly avoiding tripping on loose rocks and stones in order to shove his freshly caught fish in her face. “Wow, baby. That’s a big one!” she exclaims in the face of reality, trying not to scrunch up her face as droplets of water from the tiny scales splash onto her.  
  
“I catched it myself!” he says, the fish still flailing about on the end of the hook. “Blake says I can show you but then we got to let it go back.”  
  
“Good idea. I think his parents might miss him if we kept him, yeah?”  
  
Apollo presses a soft kiss to her cheek, and runs excitedly back to Blake, the poor fish cradled awkwardly in his slim arms. She smiles softly when she hears the splash as its tiny body hits the water.  
  
****

**Year Ten [2019]**  
  
“He’s a TEENAGER.”  
  
“I know, sweetheart. We literally just gave him a cake stating as much.”  
  
“But, Blake, a TEENAGER. God…” His arms come around her, and she can feel the laughter bubbling up in his chest. “Shut up, this is… I can’t be this old,” she says piteously.  
  
“Do you want me to lie to you or tell the truth?”  
  
“Just this once, lie through your teeth. Believably. Pretty please.”  
  
Blake laughs out loud, that over the top warm burst of sound that should be ridiculous, but is endearing instead. His hands stray to her ass, firm and bringing her body even closer to his. “I won’t do it, y’know. You’re old, Gwen Stefani, so, so, so old.”  
  
She wriggles in his grip, pretends she wants to escape when all she really wants is for him to use his mouth for kissing instead of smartass remarks.  
  
He obliges.  



End file.
